


no place is home but times, they are changin’.

by wickedbad



Series: and the stars will be your eyes. [1]
Category: Red Dead Redemption, Red Dead Redemption 2
Genre: Ambiguous timeframe within game but definitely before Chapter 5, Anyway these cowboys are gay my friends, Cowboys Being Soft, First Kiss, I saw that tag on another fic and I HAD to use it, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Pretty sure there's no spoilers, Probably gonna make this a series soooooo, it doesn't really matter though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-28 10:10:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16721349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedbad/pseuds/wickedbad
Summary: “You’re a good man, Arthur Morgan. As good as one can find these days,” Charles's voice came out soft, just above a whisper. Arthur was dumbfounded, head spinning and confused as he didn’t even try to understand whatever Charles was saying to him.[Arthur and Charles share a first kiss after opening up about their Feelings™]





	no place is home but times, they are changin’.

There sure was something about Charles Smith that charmed him; the two of them had grown awfully close within the last six months or so - they’d spent a decent amount of time hunting and pulling off schemes together. They had fallen into the regular habit of hunting trips, where Charles would educate Arthur on nature and animals; he’d speak with such a gentle compassion that Arthur couldn’t help but feel like a changed man - one with a lightened heart for the lives of those further down the food chain. That tender nature Charles equipped was nothing short of a nice change from the ruggedness he’d spent his entire life riding alongside.

There was a longing that settled inside of him that burned, wanting for something he wasn’t sure he could have; they were feelings he had felt throughout his life, but he pushed them down and tried not to think about them. Though, it was getting hard to play pretend around Charles, who seemed to understand him more than anyone else he had ever known - especially now with his growing sense of guilt and doubt that riddled inside him; he’d be a liar to say he didn’t want someone to confide in.

Tonight, Arthur sat by the water, far enough away from camp so no one could see him, but close enough that he could hear the singing and indistinguishable chatter that echoed through the trees. The wind had picked up for the night, causing the water before him to quiver beneath the moonlight. The world had mostly fallen silent, except for the cicadas and nocturnal creatures that fumbled around in the dark. In the distance, the lanterns burned, flashing and signaling the walk toward camp. He was certain he could just barely make out the gentle strum of Javier’s guitar, and maybe the tail end of an argument between Micah and John. It was the same old shit, just another shitty day; he needed the space and the clarity of mind to distance himself from it all.

With his journal propped against his knee, he scribbled a few words onto the next blank page, looking out across the waterfront to reflect; he’d found a sturdy log by the shorefront that he’d taken a liking to whenever he decided to slip away from camp, and kept one of his legs stretched out in front of him while he wrote.  There’d been a lot going on as of late; he was starting to feel doubts he’d never felt before. Or, maybe he always had, and age had diminished his ability to deny and convince himself of things that masked his worries. No good ever came out of worrying.

“Hey,” Charles’s voice broke his concentration, and he shuffled against the log, stuffing his journal inside his satchel. He gazed up at Charles, squinting as he tried to make out his expression in the moonlight. Charles was serious, and he stood with his arms folded across the front of his dark shirt, his brow slightly creased, “I noticed you were quick to get out of camp. Thought I’d come check up on you.”

Arthur nodded in appreciation, clearing his throat as he turned his gaze back to the rippling waves a few feet ahead of him, “Yeah,” He grunted, scratching at his neck before tugging on his shirt collar, “Just felt like gettin’ away, ‘sall.”

Charles creased his brow further, “I can let you be, if that’s what you want.”

“Nah, ain’t like that,” Arthur grumbled, letting out a sigh as he scooted over on the log, making room for Charles to take a seat if he felt inclined. If he’d been truthful - and he never considered himself much of an honest man - he was longing for Charles’s company. “All that arguin’ ‘n nonsense back at camp ain’t doin’ any favors for no one.”

“Can’t say you’re wrong there,” Charles sighed, kicking a few shoreline pebbles with the toe of his boot. He shifted his holster against his hip, propping his leg up on the base of the log Arthur was perched on. A beat of silence passed before Charles lowered himself to a crouch beside Arthur, glancing over at him, “There’s something on your mind.”

Arthur shrugged, picking up a small rock and tossing it into the water, watching as it skipped across the surface a few feet before sinking, “Gah, I dunno,” He drawled, watching the ripples of the dark water reflect in the moonlight. “We all got somethin’ on our mind. Just worries is all.”

“Worries about what?” Charles picked up a dark rock, casting it into the water; his pebble skipped a few paces more than Arthur’s, finishing its bounce with a soft _plop_ before disappearing to the bottom.

“So damn nosy,” Arthur let out a breathless chuckle, adjusting himself against the log. A sliver of wood had broken off from the base, stabbing into the side of his thigh; with a grunt, he broke it off, chucking the piece into the water. With a sigh, he grabbed another pebble in front of him, toying with it between his fingers. “I dunno… You ever get the feelin’ we’re stuck in this loop? Hell, I’ve been runnin’ with Dutch for twenty years, you know that. Ain’t no doubt in my mind I wouldn’t do anythin’ for this gang… Nothin’ like that… It’s just… Feels like it’s always the same lately, headed from one place to another. Always on the run from somethin’. Maybe I’m turnin’ soft, I dunno… Guess I’m… Guess I’m just tired ‘a runnin’.”

“I get what you mean,” Charles admitted, making himself comfortable on the open space on the log beside Arthur; their bodies were close, shoulders just barely rubbing against each other. Charles squinted out across the water, watching the waves crest against the shoreline. “Dutch’s got big plans, but sometimes I wonder if they’re a little too big. You can’t say the man’s not a dreamer… How long you been feelin’ this way?”

“Oh, some time now. ‘Specially after that mess in Blackwater. Dutch just… he ain’t the same. Hearin’ ‘bout him kill that girl ‘n all. Shit, don’t know if even I’d have it in me to do somethin’ like that. Now he’s goin’ all off on this thing ‘bout revenge, I think. Makes me feel like I’m the one that’s been confused ‘bout the way we’ve been runnin’ things all along.”

Charles frowned, “I think we’re just in a rough spot. Give him some time, you know? Give all of us some time; we need it. Dutch will come around… I know he’s always been a father to you; he cares about you, Arthur.”

Arthur shook his head, letting out a humorless chuckle as he tossed the pebble he’d been toying with into the water. “If Dutch or any you bastards knew what was good for you, you’d leave me for dead first chance you got.”

“Don’t talk like that, Arthur. We need you with us; where would we be right now if you’d been one of the ones who didn’t make it out of that mess? How would Dutch be right now, losin’ you? Nah, we all need you, Arthur.”

Charles was a good kid, but nothing he could say would change Arthur’s mind; he’d spent too much time playing pretend, convincing himself what he was doing was the right thing, or something like that. Killing people senselessly over a few bucks wasn’t anything to be proud of. Now, they were out here all tied up in civilization, when all he wanted to do was head west - further away from his sins than they could catch up to him.

Arthur gave him an empty smile, “You’re really the only one out here I feel like I can talk to ‘bout this kinda stuff. Dutch ain’t gonna listen to any ‘a my moanin’. No one else either that matter… You’re a good kid, Charles. Glad you joined us when you did.”

“Me too,” Charles offered, nodding his head. They sat in silence for a few beats, the stillness of the night wrapping around them and closing in. The cicadas continued to hum in the distance, and the wind rustled through the trees before swirling around their bodies, sending a shiver down their spines. “There’s something else, isn’t there?”

Arthur shoved his tongue into his cheek, keeping his gaze low beneath the dark brim of his hat, “Already told you ‘bout Dutch…”

“It’s not about Dutch.”

Arthur swallowed hard, his throat tightening at Charles’s words. Hell, this kid could read him better than anyone else. Maybe he _was_ growing soft and wasn’t so good at hiding his damn emotions as he thought; or, maybe Charles was the only one in the gang who actually gave a damn about him. Either way, there was something inside of him that longed for the comfort of Charles’s solace, but he wasn’t about to start pouring out his feelings like it was nothing. Not at least while he was sober…

Instead of saying what he had been wanting to say for the last few months, he kept tight-lipped, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I’m not gonna bore you with all that. We all got worries, Charles. You don’t wanna hear ‘bout it, trust me.”

“I’ve got a feeling I already know,” Charles admitted, glancing over at Arthur; he turned his body to face him, knees now pointed toward him as he moved closer. “I’m not blind or a fool, Arthur.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes; he could just barely make out the softness of Charles’s expression in the night. His voice was hard, but his face was tender; the pale moonlight reflected in his eyes, which were staring back at him with such strong intent it would’ve made him feel uncomfortable if it were anyone else besides Charles. “Not sure I get your meanin’... Look, if this is ‘bout somethin’ I may’ve said… well, sometimes the ‘shine hits real strong, don’t always know what I’m sayin’ - don’t always mean it, either.”

Charles shook his head, almost scoffing. “It ain’t like that, Arthur. You know damn well what I mean… The looks, the touches, the talks we’ve had… I feel the same.”

Arthur knew he wasn’t the brightest in the bunch, but he wasn’t all that dumb; he knew exactly what Charles had meant the second he pressed for more. There was no use in denying the feelings he’d had for him throughout the last few months; they had a strong bond that he never shared with any other man - nay, _person_.

“I know you ain’t dense,” Charles continued, turning his gaze away from Arthur to look out over the water, “People talk, sayin’ things about you, but I never believed them. I know you better than that.”

Arthur chuckled, “You dunno me at all, Charles,” He shook his head, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “I’m a good-for-nothin’ criminal. If you, or anyone else, knew what were best for you, you’d stay far away from me… Anyone close to me like that… it don’t end good.”

“You hear yourself, don’t you? You sound ridiculous…. What do you think I am, then? I’m just as much of a criminal as you - we _all_ are. No one in this gang is innocent; we all have our sins. You put too much of the blame on yourself, Arthur. It’s no way to live with all that doubt and guilt inside you.”

Charles was fighting harder for him than anyone else he’d ever met; he wasn’t going to sit there and let Arthur beat himself up. Charles held him accountable for his bullshit, and that brought up all those feelings he’d been trying so hard to push down. If getting shot up in a robbery or hung by the law didn’t kill him first, the way Charles made his chest so tight he couldn’t breathe surely would.

He had a feeling in the pit of his stomach like he was about to do something stupid; it happened from time to time, but he had never quite figured out how to ignore that gut sensation and knock some sense into himself. Glancing over his shoulder, he looked back at the camp, making sure no one had wandered over to the water in a drunken stupor or to pester Arthur about some fool’s errand they’d conjured. When he turned back to face Charles, he was already leaning into him, dark eyes locked on Arthur’s. Before either of them had time to change their minds and regret it, Charles reached up to tilt Arthur’s hat back, both of them ignoring it as it fell backwards into the sandy dirt. They pressed against one another, Charles’s hand finding its place resting against Arthur’s cheek.

It embarrassed him to know how long he had been thinking about this moment, his mind slipping off into unattainable fantasy when he had a few minutes of peace. Charles’s hand was rough against his skin, and the prickly hairs of his beard tickled his palm. They kissed with a raw hunger Arthur had never felt before, and he pressed further into Charles’s body, wanting for more. Charles’s teeth tugged on his bottom lip, and Arthur let out a soft sigh that was lost in Charles’s embrace. Arthur felt his hands turn restless, and he found comfort clenching his fists into the collar of Charles’s shirt, pulling his upper body closer to his own. With one hand, he released his grip and let his grasp work its way to the back of Charles’s head, gripping a fistful of dark hair between his fingers. He tugged on the strands, earning a gentle grunt from Charles as he lightly sucked on Arthur’s bottom lip.

He felt like he couldn’t breathe; his vision had gone hazy and his head was light. Charles started to pull away but leaned back in to press one more soft kiss into the corner of Arthur’s mouth.

“You’re a good man, Arthur Morgan. As good as one can find these days,” His voice came out soft, just above a whisper. Arthur was dumbfounded, head spinning and confused as he didn’t even try to understand whatever Charles was saying to him. In the moonlight, he could see his lips moving, but his gentle mumbles were lost on him. Didn’t matter anyway; it was probably a bunch of kindhearted sentiment he didn’t deserve. Arthur stared back at Charles, mouth slightly agape. When he collected himself, he focused on Charles’s words, “That bad, huh?”

“Nah, it weren’t that; just took me by surprise, ‘sall,” He lowered his gaze, his mind unsure how it was supposed to feel. _You goddamn fool_ , he thought to himself before glancing back at Charles. “This is a bad idea, but I know there ain’t no use in arguin’ with a stubborn feller like yourself.”

Charles rolled his eyes, “You ever gonna let yourself have one good thing? Let someone care about you for once; it ain’t gonna kill you.”

“It might,” He chuckled, rolling his shoulders. “Blinded by love; I’ve heard some fellers say stranger things have happened.”

Charles raised an eyebrow, “Oh, so we’re in love now? You move fast, Morgan. Like you said, I ain’t know you at all,” He smiled, holding back his laughter as he lightly bumped his shoulder against Arthur’s.

“Folk ain’t gonna approve,” He muttered, glancing over his shoulder back at camp. The murmurs had died down; mostly everyone had wandered off to bed, preparing themselves for another long day of work ahead of them.

“I wasn’t planning on telling them,” Charles admitted, following Arthur’s gaze toward the camp. “Already feel like I got eyes on me all the time, don’t need to be drawin’ any more attention to myself… ‘specially not with some big cowboy actin’ all sweet on me.”

Arthur rolled his eyes, “Big cowboy actin’ sweet on you,” He repeated with a twinge of exaggeration and chuckled before taking a pause, reflecting for a moment. “This ain’t like nothin’ I’ve felt before. Weren’t somethin’ I was plannin’ on. Guess I’m just… I’m… Hell, I dunno…”

“You don’t gotta explain yourself to me, Arthur,” The joking tone had faded from Charles’s voice, laced instead with softness and understanding. Charles leaned forward on the log, reaching down to adjust his boots. “Best if I head back to camp, probably. You stayin’?”

Arthur nodded, clearing his throat as he tugged at his collar, “Best if I did.”

“Alright, cowboy,” Charles leaned in, tilting Arthur’s chin up to press a quick kiss to his lips, “You know where to find me.”

“Sure do,” He mumbled, nodding his head as Charles lifted himself from the log and headed down the path toward camp. Arthur turned his gaze back to the water, listening to the rhythmic crashing of the soft waves against the shoreline. In the dark, he fumbled around on the ground before him for his hat, lifting it up and brushing the sandy dirt off the brim before placing it back on his head.

He stole a glance over his shoulder, noticing that Charles had already made it halfway back to camp. Arthur chuckled to himself, shaking his head as he stretched his legs out in front of him. Beside him, he reached into his satchel, pulling out his journal and pen as he propped the book back onto one of his knees. In the dark, he could just barely make out the words on the page, but he scribbled on it anyway.

He spent a few minutes filling out the page he’d been working on before Charles wandered over, keeping himself up-to-date on the camp and other things of the sort. When the page had filled, he set the journal down, bringing his hand up to his chin to absently rub the spot while he reflected on his words. With that, he turned to the next yellowed page of his journal, disregarding the torn edge in the top corner. He grunted as he tried to write, unsure of what he was going to say.

_I’m turning soft_ , he wrote. _That damned Charles Smith._

**Author's Note:**

> I was sick and came up with most of this at like 4 am, and now like two weeks later I'm finally bringing it to fruition. I'm still not finished with the game (I just started the second epilogue... I'm slow) sooooo I'm still stoked about having more game play left. ANYWAY, I've wanted to write something about these two gay cowboys since like Chapter 2 and here it is!
> 
> This was actually SUPER fun to write, like probably the most carefree I've ever been writing a fic which I really enjoyed. I'm thinking about making this a series with other one-shots about these two so be on the lookout if you enjoyed this one. 
> 
> As always, a big thank you to [Fireplanetz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fireplanetz/pseuds/fireplanetz) who is an INCREDIBLE writer! 
> 
> The title is from the song "Sanctuary" by Welshly Arms! They're really good, y'all should check them out!!
> 
> Anyway, did I even write a fic if I didn't ramble in the notes section? If you liked this fic, leave a comment and/or a kudos; I appreciate them so much! Thanks for reading!!


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